Tuesday, April 28, 2009

"Seriously Sue... you need to write a reality book on "blended families".

Just call it "The Splendid Blendeds". It would be hysterical!"

chirp...

chirp...

Of course, this particular "best friend" just so happens NOT to have kids yet.

Very.Funny.My.Dear.Carla.Very.Very.Funny.

When your life becomes a living entertainment log,

you know you might be in trouble.

But seriously, that's the way our life rolls in this house.

And I truly think, it's similar to any other family... "BLENDED" or not.

Thankfully, my husband and I both choose to see it through humor.

Otherwise, we'd probably be praying the two of us

become the next Swine Flu Victims.

So with that, here are a few tips on

Surviving in a Blended Family:

[Or just surviving in ANY FAMILY, as these rules apply to anyone dealing with more than one child.]

1. If you have never done so, or if you're new to the whole "blended" thing, call a family meeting to solicit "family" rules. Create and post these on your refrigerator for everyone to follow. Go through each one, and discuss why for example, "Being Kind to Others" is important.

Do not be surprised that just as you're getting to Rule #2 or #3, kids everywhere during the meeting are chatting, rolling eyes, wrestling, and trying to sneak the remote control in hopes family meeting time is OVER and they can get back to better things in life. "Family Meetings" are so NOT-cool to 8-year-olds. However, "Family Meetings" are a strategic way for parents to get all kids on the same side if even for a mere 4.6 minutes. [And while that "same side" is basically "We all think Mom and Dad are boring and family meetings suck.", they are all on the same side for at least that one moment, right?]

2. Do not hang created Family Rules poster from suggestion #1 just below the ice and water dispenser of your refrigerator, as drips and left behind melting ice chips will cause rules to become illegible. This in turn only gives children an "out" when they break a rule, because they actually "couldn't read the writing" and forgot the totally UN-obvious rule that states "We do not pinch or hit other people".

3. Get used to the 7,245 ways of implementing "taking turns" between siblings. Once you've created allotted times children must rotate to take turns with various activities such as computer time, Wii time, holding the remote control time, brushing teeth time, laying with mommy at bed-time time, TV channel selection time, playing on the round swing time, playing on the green swing time, hitting the tree with the stick we all happened to find together time, and every other human movement or decision-making time that exists, they'll have hit college-age and hopefully chosen a school with a minimum distance of 120 miles from your current city of residence.

4. Spend half a day and $38 in office supplies and laminating services to create interchangeable seat assignments in your god-for-saken Mini-Van stealth of a vehicle creating the rule that with each new day comes a rotation in seat assignments. Velcro name tags are secured to backings on all four seat windows in rear of van and will be rotated every morning for change of scenic opportunity for each kid. This will minimize ten minute fight prior to each outing and reduce both adult and child tear production on a daily basis, as expectations are set and parents do not overheat prior to backing out of the family driveway.

5. Have realistic expectations that rotating name-tags will only reduce fighting for approximately 3-4 weeks. Once "newness" wears off, be prepared to implement tip #3 around implementing fair "turn-taking" as to who gets to implement daily morning rotation of Velcro name tags.

In addition, create the following rule: "If any child even touches a name-tag without being asked, that individual will be locked in the basement for twice the number of minutes of their age. With no lights on." ["No lights on" clause very important in execution.]

Then, just realize that this idea should probably just be scrapped after a month and the feeling of shame may set in with the now semi-permanent Velcro sticking laminated name tags that add one more horrific element of personality to your Mini-Van stealth of a vehicle.

6. I'm too tired to share more and of course can not give away all my secrets if I still entertain the idea of writing a book.

Monday, April 27, 2009

It's 90 degrees today in Upstate New York, and I have been smacked in the face by yet another OCD tendency of my 6 year old. The tedious process went away this winter season and luckily seemed to escape my memory for the past 8 or so months.

But 90 degree weather and 2 days of straight sunshine has caused a sudden re-birth.

My kid has OCD with "Sunscreen Application".

Are any other people's children obsessed with this phenomenon? I mean, my step-sons could care less about sunscreen. We usually need to chase them around poolside with lotion in hand, slapping their backs as best possible hoping that even the smallest amount lands.

My 9 year old will whine, but knows that succumbing to the rub-down is a much better deal than facing a time-out. There is no worse torture than watching your siblings play outside or swim while you sit nailed to a chair for 10 minutes. No worse torture.

But then, there is my 6 year old.

Sunscreen application is a very serious process. It begins at certain points on each arm. The lotion must be administered slowly - in small dabbing motions which then turn into single finger strokes, up and down, up and down.

Leg coverage is massive. The child looks like one major grease ball and if asked to hold anything within an hour after completion, items slip through her fingertips even with the most determined grip hold.

And then we have the ears, neck, underarms, shoulder and facial coverage. Facial coverage is what I fear the most. As yesterday reminded us, facial coverage causes facial sunscreen drippage after any amount of sweat or perspiration, which in turn causes massive eyeball burnage.

Wouldn't most normal people learn a lesson after just one experience of massive eyeball burnage? I would surely think so, but that would then not allow for the entire process of facial sunscreen coverage and here I believe is where the OCD takes over in my child.

And as much as I feel sorry for the kid, I can not help but laugh inside. I love that greasy mass of child, even as I realize that the season for wet-washcloth application over eyes has just begun.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Have you seen or heard anything about the latest blogging rage called "Mommy Confessions"? I actually saw some of the bloggers and contributors on Oprah a few weeks ago who, thank F_*#%ing God, have finally convinced me I'm not the only mom around here that doesn't claim perfection.

And I'm sure as hell not about to link you up to it either, because my confessions are as good as theirs. And anyway, I've been admitting my faults for some time now, unlike others.

Got it?

So then it hit me... I think my entire blog is one F_%#ed Up Confession in general. I mean seriously, all day I've been asking myself, what the hell compels me to write about my husband's smelly taint?
But I've also never claimed to be a writer, especially one of substance. So what better else to do than steal the theme for my own personal blog content? Right?

A few personal confessions this week:

1. One of the hot dogs I was preparing for the kids dinner this weekend rolled across our entire kitchen floor, but because we had so many neighborhood brats over to eat, my husband gave me the look of approval and I swiftly lunged and grabbed that dog of dogs while quickly blowing lint off before serving.

2. I chose to serve the linty dog to my own child because I feared that in the small chance it rolled over an invisible pile of killer bacteria, I should have at least ensured it was my own kid that got sick. Right?

3. I'm embarrassed writing this because I think some of the people in my personal life now who read this will never trust in eating at my home again. But in all honesty, an "invisible pile of killer bacteria" could easily exist on our kitchen floor.

4. My daughters had their first experimentation with googling "bad" words. And let's just say that the conversation involved thorough explanation of why a woman shouldn't allow anyone else to straddle, lick or touch their own body parts because such behavior is not "respecting your own body".

5. My girls then decided to mimic certain contorted positions they seemed to have witnessed online while asking me what "respecting your own body" means.

6. I decided to give them a fudgsicle if we could just change the subject. And to be honest, I'm wondering if they learned those contorted positions online or if they actually just woke up late one night and we simply didn't hear them.

7. This story actually happened last year, but I'm confessing it today because my 6 year old typed "sex" in the search bar at my Moms office last week while she had them for a few hours. This obviously brought back memories.

8. Main reminder is the fact that I have still not loaded software to block inappropriate searches and sites, even though I swore I would last year after thinking my kids were traumatized forever.

9. My kids aren't traumatized. These little shits are just exposed to way more than we ever were growing up.

10. Through all this, I've learned the best way to stay on top of things is actively play truth or dare on the front porch with the my 2 daughters & the neighborgood girls when asked, probing about kissing boys, going out, and who's cute in the world of elementary school. Makeyla, I'm calling your Mom.

Monday, April 20, 2009

I think I've mentioned before how my husband takes pride in his manscaping abilities - and actually I believe it was the topic of his first guest post a month or so back. Remember, the quick mention of "manscaping" and "pubes" that brought Blogger Stalker Ronald10021 out of the word works, and caused me to go into hiding for some time? But anyway, back to my man's pride around caring for his Netherland Region - it's rather quite rewarding, and something I have grown to appreciate.

Especiallyafter yesterday.

Once a week, after hitting the gym together to train for a lethal hour of hell, we'll hit a tanning bed for 20 minutes of silence. We could hardly give a shit about getting a tan. But the additional 20 minutes of peace is totally worth the extra $10 in babysitting fees.

Yesterday, I think I heard the nastiest thing my husband's ever said to me as we were finished and walking out to our car:

Husband [Very Serious Tone] : "Damn, I turned the fan on, laid down and almost puked because the smell of my sweaty-ass Taint blew straight up to my face and in my mouth."

Silence.

BURST OUT UNCONTROLLABLE LAUGHTER...

Baby, let's make a pit stop:

Seriously Baby, aside from your old high school "stink finger" stories, I think this takes the cake.

Friday, April 10, 2009

I mean, WHY, IN GOD'S NAME DO YOU STAND THERE F'n NAKED FOREVER, NOT DOING ANYTHING IN THE GYM LOCKER ROOM???? WHY???

I really can't take it anymore.

And the fact that you were STILL there staring at yourself in the bathroom mirrors when I exited the stall to wash my hands and had to BRUSH UP AGAINST YOUR GOD FOR SAKEN NAKED ASS to throw my paper towel away in the garbage can, is just.simply.beyond.me.

F'n.Beyond.Me.

Are you married to the Close-Talker man that hangs naked in the Men's room swinging his sac in front of my husband every so (too) often? Because if that's your husband, you might want to warn him that he's close to being neutered.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Do you have an Annoying Kid like me that literally CAN'T.STOP.FUCKING.TALKING? And I mean EVER? For some reason, ours doesn't understand the concept of "Thinking" versus "Speaking". If he's told to "Please Be Quiet..." he will turn to singing. Singing words. Singing sounds. Singing the alphabet. Singing Names. Singing "I love to Sing". Singing. Singing. Fucking. Singing.

BRILLIANT PARENT RESPONSE:

Just before your head is about to explode and you physically have to restrain either your spouse OR self from reaching around from the front seat of the car with arms grasping to rip Annoying Kid's head off... STOP, and simply explain:

"Annoying Kid, you need to understand that the conversation you are having with yourself right now is one that you should be having with your brain. Not with us. Did you know that normal people actually don't have to HEAR themselves talk all the time? Normal people actually have conversations with their brain. Without their mouth working. Not out loud. And this would be one of those times. Talk.To.Your.Fucking.Brain... NOW."

Monday, April 6, 2009

It's been a rough week, and today I faced yet I realized that another serious problem has been following me around for several months now, and must come out in the open. It's time.

Do you know when something exists, yet the anxiety of just verbalizing it to anyone else consumes you as a being, because God forbid if you do so, it will become truthful?

I especially feel guilty for not being up front with my husband. I think he knows it's there. I've danced around the issue for some time. He can see my mood alter instantly out of the blue, yet I continue to wonder if he knows the exact reason behind my occasional outbursts.